A Pack of Tales Ch. 04

A special thank you to Sara Rasmussen, my previous editor, from whom I learned so much about better writing. Diolch yn fawr to Bramblethorn for kindly picking up the tales when Sara couldn't continue.

Please leave comments and feedback for me so I know what works and what doesn't as I write up the rest of this story.

This series has two kinds of chapters: story chapters, called '(story)' in the blurb and sex scenes, called '(scene)' in the blurb. The sex scenes will be diverse. You can choose to read them all or, if e.g. hetero sex isn't your thing, to skip some and only read the story chapters and e.g. lesbian sex scenes. You should be able to identify which scenes have what kind of sex from the tags and sometimes the category the chapter is uploaded into.

All characters in this story are fictional. Any resemblance topersons, living or dead, is purely coincidental.

Chapter 04 -- Max/Rob

A quiet night for Max (scene)

The first part of this chapter is just 'story'; the second part has gay group sex in a public place, piercings and just a soupçon of masochism. Don't read the second part unless you're sure you like gay male sex.

It was still early and a Sunday night so when Max and Rob went into the club, the place was virtually empty. The music bounced softly off the rough white-washed walls and black leatherette banquettes round a small dance floor. The barman was indulging himself by playing '80s disco, to Max's revulsion.

Rob ambled up to the bar sniffing hopefully and bouncing to the beat. He was so young he actually thought the music was cool and funky. There were a few bears huddled in one corner (not real bears, of course; older bearded humans). This was even more annoying for Max since it meant he had to stand closer to Rob than he wanted and make it clear that Rob belonged to him. Rob was a delectable young cub whom the bears would be delighted to tutor in their ways. Col would skin Max alive if he allowed Rob to be broken in by one of those old reprobates. Max glared coldly at them and they looked puzzled. In a city this small, the gay community knew each other's proclivities and Rob was definitely not the kind of titbit that tickled Max's fancy.

"What do you want to drink?" Max enquired, putting his leg up against Rob's as they stood at the bar. Rob was surprised, but he was an affectionate cub. He snuggled his muscular soft young curves sideways on Max's lean hard body, saying he would have a beer and fishing his ID out of his jeans pocket for the barman.

He looked mournful when the barman put a small bottle of lager on the counter, and appalled when he saw how much Max had paid for the lager and a gin and tonic. Max laughed, saying, "if you want a foocking pint of Wye Valley, go out with Col."

Rob grinned; he wasn't coming out for the beer of course.

A slim man in jeans and a leather jacket had drifted in and up to the bar. To Max's annoyance, he murmured, "Who's the kid, Prince?" Rob snorted lager up his nose at this. Max kicked Rob and shoved him off in the direction of an empty black leatherette booth, saying crossly back over his shoulder, "Just a friend."

"Prince!" Rob was snorting. "Like an Alsatian, or what?!"

"Shut up," Max said with a grin as he sat down and crossed one elegant long leg over the other. "It's better than Wolfman973. And don't tell foocking Col or I'll never bring you out again."

He bought Rob one more drink but no other younger men were out and about that night. Rob was staring hopefully round the club at every occasional new entrant in a manner which made it all too evident that he hadn't come along for a pint of Brains Black and a packet of scratchings. The bears were stirring restlessly in their leatherette den. Max had started thinking about work the next day. He said firmly that he would walk Rob to the train station.

~#~

Gay night at Y Carchar Aur was Thursday. Max wasn't dressed for a scene, he just had on his jeans, a white t-shirt and a Barbour jacket. However he thought he might swing by and have a cocktail in Y Carchar before going back to the flat where he stayed in the working week. He took a short cut up an alleyway between some shops.

"Maximilian."

He came to a quick stop as the softly-hissed name came out of the shadows at him. He grinned, ducking his head, and his eyes began going a mucky green. He could feel his penis begin to fill out softly in his jeans and his shoulders bristled, he hunched them against his collar.

"Hullo boys," he said quietly. "Is that some salami in your pockets or are you just pleased to see me?"

Husky panting laughter greeted this sally. Billy and Bryn stepped out of the shadows by a big iron dumpster.

Billy was about Max's age and a similar physique: tall and slender. He wore GAP jeans with a denim jacket. Bryn was older, bigger-built, in some nondescript jeans and a short rainproof coat. The yellow light from the streetlamps glistened off the buckle on Billy's collar and the studs on Bryn's.

They never arranged to meet. If they saw each other in the clubs they just nodded curtly. Billy and Bryn's Alpha would be even angrier than Rex and Col if he heard they were in the habit of playing with someone from another pack. Especially Max. The necessarily chance nature of their encounters of course only added to the dangerous sweetness of tasting each other's forbidden fruits.

The three stood for a moment in the yellow light of the streetlamp which glistened off the rain-soaked cobbles. They had all hunched their shoulders as if against the cold. They peered at each other, unable to repress the grins glinting on their mouths and in their yellowing eyes.

"Collars on," Max said in a businesslike voice.

Billy and Bryn looked disappointed. Billy cast a quick glance down the alley to the road, where people were passing up and down from one pub to another, and nodded. He stepped back into the shadows of the dumpster. Max followed him, slowly. Bryn came up behind Max. Max felt his shoulders hunch and bristle at the presence of a werewolf from another pack behind his back. He gave a high-pitched, titillated giggle.

"Do you boys ever go walking down Cosmiston Lakes?" he murmured as he came up close to Billy. He smelled Billy's cheap aftershave and below that the essential salty sweetness that was Billy: tender and meaty.

"I'm just saying," Max answered, taking a delicate sniff under Billy's ear at the cheap chemical odour of his aftershave. "It's a nice place for a walk. With your collar off."

There was a brief silence then Billy gave a regretful sigh. "It would mean swapping phone numbers," he pointed out. He added in a conciliatory tone: "We might make it up into the Valleys one weekend."

Bryn had come up behind Max now, tugging the zip of his own jeans undone and taking hold of Max. Max smelled Bryn's deeper sweatier odour with the beefy tones in it. Bryn fumbled when his fingers found buttons instead of a zip. He rubbed his hands clumsily over Max's groin, making Max groan with pleasure. Billy was still holding Max's waist. He had started sniffing so deep and loud at Max's neck that passersby in the road could probably hear him.

"What perfume are you wearing?" he enquired. Then in an effort to reassert his butchness, he added: "Some girl's shit or what?"

Max laughed. He groaned and grunted at the rough impatient poking of Bryn's fingers trying to get his tight-fitted jeans undone and off his narrow hips. "Tom Ford Italian Cypress," he said, pulling Billy's jeans undone and feeling inside for Billy's long slim cock.

Billy ran a warm wet tongue in a lingering caress up the side of Max's neck. He drew his tongue back to murmur, "Bloody hell, Maxi, you're a weird fucker -- even for a werewolf."

"Yeah, I know." Max's voice was soft and dark. "I applied to be a vampire, but I was over-qualified."

Max made a couple of small dabs at Billy's shaven chin with his tongue, flicking briefly at the corner of Billy's mouth. Billy hissed his breath in with desire -- and anxiety, at this most forbidden of touches.

Bryn had got Max's jeans unbuttoned. He paused to run his hands up Max's body under his Barbour jacket and t-shirt. Suddenly he leaned over Max's shoulder towards Billy. Billy turned his face to Bryn's. The two of them started to kiss passionately, pressing Max between Bryn's thickset chest and Billy's lean body. Bryn's hands were gripped on Max's ribs, groping him while Bryn kissed with Billy. Billy's hands were on Max's waist. Max could hear one of them sucking on the other one's tongue or lip and an ecstatic rhythmic whining from Billy.

This was charming, of course, and Max had no wish to be anything more than an occasional piece of meat in the lads' marital sandwich, but he was keen to get an early night ahead of the working week. He wriggled in order to remind them of their duties to him. They could get it on with each other any night they wanted but a threesome with a stranger werewolf was something they would only get from Max.

The couple parted slowly, panting, from their kiss. Now Bryn was sniffing deeply at Max's neck. He slid his hands back down Max's ribcage and sides, making Max shiver with anticipation. He started pushing Max's jeans and white Dior Homme boxer trunks off.

Max wasn't going to get up and wagging with just this so he took a hand away from Billy's body and grabbed one of Bryn's hands which he lifted back up his chest to his nipple. Billy was already leaning back on the wall by the dumpster, whimpering and his hips loosening. He would need calming down rather than whipping up, but the lads knew sufficient of Max to understand he would not get his off without some special attention.

Bryn put both hands up to Max's nipples and fumbled at the rings in them. His fingers were too big to get in the rings and that was exciting in its way. Bryn had horny hard hands, rough and scratching on Max's skin. Max started panting. He gave a luxurious long whine as he felt Bryn's fingers scraping over his ribcage then gripping on the rings in his nipples. Bryn tugged on the rings. Max felt the flesh strain against the sharp tugs and his nerves shrilling. He started breathing heavily through his nose: Uh! Uh! Uh! His cock was filling now and pushing at the soft white cloth of his boxer trunks, pushing through the unbuttoned fly of his jeans.

Bryn gave his nipple rings a final impatient tug, then sent his hands down Max's long back to his buttocks. He lingered there, caressing the slim flat boyish slope of Max's arse. He eased the jeans and boxer trunks gently down over Max's narrow hips and leaned back, apparently in order to admire the small white moon of Max's arse cheeks. Max was surprised at how exciting he himself found this gentle voyeurism.

Grateful to Bryn for this unexpected attention, Max started to finger Billy's long slim cock, to keep him on the go. He did this carefully; Billy was already whimpering and his hips jerking, his hands pressed hard and flat to the wall in the effort to hold himself back.

Now Bryn's hard rough finger was parting Max's arse cheeks and poking down his crack. Bryn pulled his hands away and Max heard the crackle as he got a condom and some lube out. The finger was back, lubing Max's hole and pressing it to loosen Max's sphincter up. Max, panting and whining, stretched his lips in a taut grin as he attempted to spread his hips a little wider in his tight designer jeans ahead of Bryn's coming in.

Bryn was a big boy: eight inches and as thick as a rolled loin of meat. He did his best to prepare Max but it was with an ecstatic yowl of pain that Max felt Bryn's first thrust at his hole. Max's eyes went wide, his fingers fumbled on Billy's much slimmer pencil as Bryn thrust slowly up and in. Max stooped his torso -- to give Bryn easier access, and so he could lean down and take Billy's cock in his mouth.

He focussed on a soft sucking of the now wildly moaning Billy while he felt Bryn's meaty length thrusting slowly in, then pulling back out of his hole. Bryn's girth at the edges of his hole was as ever an exquisite thrill, spreading him as Bryn pushed in. But it could never be enough for Max, even though Bryn had clenched his horny hands in a pinching hard grip on Max's hips. Max knew Bryn was too far gone to be willing to have one of his hands pulled to the rings in Max's tits, and as it was the weekend Max wasn't wearing his Prince Albert.

Billy quivered and yelped, jerking his hips. Max now focused on sucking harder and in rhythm, giving Billy some additional encouragement by way of fingering his balls, until he threw his head back with a long soft howl and shot silky streams of cum into Max's mouth. Max swallowed this gift with pleasure, and then allowed Billy's softening cock to slip over his tongue and teeth, from his mouth. Billy quivered and leaned back on the wall. Max allowed his attention to drift back to Bryn, who was whining as he thrust his big meaty cock harder and more quickly between Max's white cheeks. As Bryn shoved and whined, pushing Max roughly towards Billy then jerking him hard back, Max took hold of his own cock and started rubbing hard. He concentrated on the memory of Col grabbing his arm and hair and slamming him into the wall. It was fresh in his mind, like a bone with shreds of meat still clinging to it. He had been saving it up, meaning to dig it out that night for a little self-pleasuring session (assisted by some of his toy collection). His back quivered with the remembered feeling of Col's boot in it and his head went back in an involuntary muffled howl, he suddenly started spurting off onto the rainy cobblestones at Billy's feet. Tears came to his yellow eyes, he gasped, gripping one hand on his cock and the other where it was still clasped on Billy's relaxed hip. For a brief moment he could see Col's furious face and he seemed to hear his voice: You foocking poof! He grinned and wept and shuddered in ecstasy.

Bryn was still pounding his arse cheeks and hole in what for Max was a post-orgasmic combination of pain and pleasure. Max grinned and wept as he braced himself against Bryn's thrusting hips and big meaty cock. He clung to the memory of the lean pale planes of the face of his angry Alpha -- the heir apparent, Mr. Sexy Wolfman69.

When Bryn was done, the three of them leaned trembling on the wall together. There could be no kisses, they were from different packs, but they pressed their hot spent bodies in each other's arms, smelling the sweat and sperm, Billy's cheap aftershave and Max's Tom Ford Italian Cypress, and the interesting pervasive odour of garbage.

Bryn suddenly stepped away. There was a zzzp as he hurriedly did up his jeans. Max and Billy pulled quickly apart as they also heard the sound of some drunken boyo staggering up the alley.

They stood affecting nonchalance. They peered down the alley at the stocky short figure reeling up the slippery rain-soaked cobblestones towards them.

"Bloody Hell, Max," Billy said suddenly. "Isn't that your Col?"

Max took an incredulous step forward, staring at the familiar head of thick hair thrusting its way as if straining at the leash. "Oh my God!" he said nervously, but then he realised that Col was in no condition to leap to the obvious conclusion on finding him in an alleyway with two strange werewolves.

Col had seen them. He paused on the cobbles. He was so drunk he was swaying to and fro. He stared at Max and said with great intensity and inopportune clarity: "You foocking poof!"

A tremor went through Max. He gave a nervous giggle as he saw Bryn's and Billy's eyes narrow and their fists clench up. "Ha ha ha! Always the joker, Col!" He fluted in an anxious voice.

Col tipped his head up as he stood swaying with drink in the cobbled alleyway and Max saw to his horror that Col was crying.